


A Study in Partnership

by LadyLaran



Series: Redefining [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Romance, Sherlock Holmes/Female John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-09 17:06:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLaran/pseuds/LadyLaran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johanna Watson has been drowning in her mind since leaving the military.  An introduction to an unusual man has her pulling herself out of her depression, challenging her to face herself and become more than she is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Doctor Meets The Detective

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Study in Colour](https://archiveofourown.org/works/909296) by [oleanderhoney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oleanderhoney/pseuds/oleanderhoney). 



> Author’s Note – Another chance to practice my het romances. I tend to prefer f/f or m/m to m/f romances, and I know I cannot stagnate as an author. So, here’s my chance to practice my heterosexual romance and have fun with my favorite couple. The twist to this is that John is a girl in it! I kind of like the idea and decided to have fun while forcing myself to practice. This is actually one of my first times to gender-bend a character, and my inspiration for this has been written by the wonderful OleanderHoney on AO3. I hope she approves of this one!
> 
> This will be a tad OOC for John truthfully, but I am playing with certain situations in hopes of making the ending that much sweeter. 
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “Sherlock” and no money is made from this tale! I just love tormenting the characters for my own amusement.

Johanna Watson sighed as she stepped out of her therapist’s office. She had been seeing Ella for her PTSD since returning from Afghanistan, and it felt like a complete waste of time. Nothing the therapist suggested seemed to be working, and it was almost frustrating to know she was devoting so much time to a treatment plan that was utter shite. A large part of her was ready to fire the woman and find another therapist in order to keep up with the guidelines of her discharge and pension.

She sighed again, leaning on her cane as she headed out of the office. Ella had commented that nothing seemed to break through the cool, detached surface that Johanna surrounded herself with and had ordered that she try the blog again. In the doctor’s mind, the blog was a colossal waste of time since nothing happened to her and the therapist really had no idea what the cause of her issues were. What was she supposed to write about? Her nightmares? The days that went by without anything to spark her interest? Was she to write about how her dreams, the few she had cherished since childhood, had been destroyed? 

No, there was no way Johanna could do such a thing. It was difficult enough to face all of these issues on her own, and she knew that sharing her thoughts with strangers was an impossibility. If there was one thing the physician would not do was complain about her issues where the outside world could poke and prod at her vulnerabilities.

The former military woman slipped outside, moving carefully to the Tube’s entrance so she could head back to the bedsit. She was too strapped to take a cab today, which meant relying on public transportation. Her blue eyes watched the people around her, biting back a sigh as each individual seemed to notice everything but her. 

That was another thing that didn’t seem to change as time went by, no matter how often she’d wished for it when she was younger. People seemed to overlook her when she was not in her comfortable settings – surgery or in the field. Johanna knew she wasn’t a beauty or even one of those unique kinds of individuals that seemed to garner the attention of everyone around her.

Her father had often called her his ‘ugly duckling’ and had promised that she would grow into the swan like the duckling in the story had been. When she was a child, she would curl into his side and let his warmth chase away her sorrows from the horrible teasing of her sister and school mates as well as the ever growing disappointment of a mother that had wanted two gorgeous daughters. Johanna had stopped waiting for that transformation long ago and had spent her time immersed in her studies and a few choice sports that had drawn her attention.

The blue eyed woman didn’t consider herself ugly, but she knew she fell short of being called beautiful. Johanna had schooled herself harshly in regards to trying to feel disappointment over it and continually worked on her hobbies as well as improving her mind where she could. As long as she had her books, she didn’t mind being overlooked as a potential mate. If the men around her didn’t appreciate her intelligence and talents, then they were just out of luck.

She approached the tube’s entrance and shook her head, trying to regain control of her thoughts. A very large part of her did not want to go home, knowing the temptation that lay locked within a drawer. Her state of mind was too imbalanced to risk that right now so she decided to get a bit more exercise, heading towards the park near the hospital she had put so many hours in during her training.

When she turned a corner in the gardens of the park, a voice reached her ears and made her pause.

“Johanna Watson, is that you?”

The doctor turned, mind racing for a moment before the changed face looked familiar to her. She gave him a gentle smile, moving towards him as she addressed the man.

“Mike Stamford, it is good to see you.”

The heavyset male got up, extending a hand towards her. His smile was just as kind and open as it had been during their university days, and Johanna was so pleased to see that.

“How are you doing? What have you been up to these days?”

“Well enough, I suppose,” she answered him. “I was invalided out of the military so am trying to find a way to center myself and get used to civilian life again. How about you?”

“Doing well, doing well. Married now, with kids, and working over at Bart’s these days as a teacher of the bright young minds of tomorrow. God, I hate them. I’m sorry to hear you were injured,” Mike shared, looking at his friend. “Are you in London temporarily or looking to stay?”

“I’d like to stay,” Johanna admitted. “However, living in London is well beyond my means and the place I’m living at is a cramped hellhole. Army pension doesn’t pay enough for me to remain in town.”

“I suppose Harry’s place is still out of the question?”

She sighed, rubbing her forehead with her free hand. Mike had met her sister during their time in university and knew firsthand what a rotten bitch Harry was. He’d also gotten to meet their mother and had quickly quipped to Johanna later that he knew where Harry had gotten that nasty attitude from. It hadn’t helped ease the horror and shame she’d felt, but he’d not held her family against her. She’s been very grateful for that.

“She’s gotten worse over the years so yeah, her place is a definite no-go. Same as returning to my family’s house.”

“Have you thought about getting a flatshare?”

The blond shook her head, hand moving to cover the one that rested on the cane.

“I’m not a good candidate for it; I mean, who’d want me as a flatmate?”  
The response was not something Johanna had expected, and she gave him a keen look when he started laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh Johanna, you are the second person to ask me that very same question today. Come with me,” he instructed, knowing her curiosity would lead her to follow him into the hospital he worked at.

The hospital where the two friends had trained was certainly different now, she observed. It had a more modern feel to it thanks to the renovations and the advanced technology that was available to be seen and used by the staff. When she commented on how things had changed, Mike only laughed and agreed.

“Why are we going to the morgue,” Johanna asked, recognizing where they were going.

“That’s where the chap is I want you to meet,” Mike answered. “He’s usually down here to run tests and the like.”

Well, there were worse places to run tests so the woman said nothing bad about it and simply followed her friend into a small lab near the main area of the morgue.

“Mike, may I borrow your mobile?”

Johanna blinked when she heard the deep voice address her companion, rocking for a moment when she had realized it had come from the skinny man behind the microscope. She couldn’t see much of him considering his head was down, and it was hard to get any sort of description on him beyond dark hair, skinny appearance, and deep voice.

“I’ve not got it with me,” Mike said sheepishly after searching his pockets. “I left it in my jacket back in my office. Landline works though.”

“I prefer to text,” the man responded and Johanna moved, fishing the phone her sister had given her out of her coat pocket. She took a step forward, holding the device out.

“You’re welcome to borrow mine.”

She froze when he looked up and assessed her, which was a first for her. Most people never really saw her, and this man was taking the time to really get a good look at her. Johanna knew she wasn’t much to look at: inexpensive clothing that was ill-fitting due to her weight loss during her injury and subsequent illnesses that followed, dirty-blond hair worn in a short cut, and her plain features that simply showed the signs of stress, pain, and illness. The gaze only lasted a few moments, but it seared her right to the core.

“Afghanistan or Iraq,” he asked, eyes going down to her mobile as he swiftly typed a message.

“Afghanistan,” Johanna answered, a bit taken aback by the question. “How did you know?”

“Do you have any problems with the violin?”

“No,” she began, a bit baffled and trying to keep up with his thought processes. How had he jumped from where her last assignment had been to a musical instrument?

“I play the violin at odd hours when I’m thinking and am prone to going days without speaking as well. Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other.”

Johanna quickly caught up, tired as she was, and watched him carefully as she responded.

“I’m pretty much non-communicative if I don’t have my cup of tea first thing in the morning,” she began. “Since you know where I was last stationed, then you should know that the time there left its mark on me in more ways than one. You’ll need to tread with care some days, but I’ll try to give some signal if I’m having an off day. Since you’ve brought up the idea of sharing a flat, I assume you know what you’re getting into by considering me as a potential flatmate?”

He blinked at that, a bit surprised but pleased that she’d responded like this. Apparently, she had more potential than he’d originally thought.

“Are you speaking of the PTSD or something entirely different?”

“I brought the first issue up a few moments ago,” she replied. “The second issue is gender oriented.”

“That should not present a problem,” Sherlock answered, tilting his head a bit as he picked up his scarf to tie it around his neck.

Mike snickered at that, knowing full well what his friend was referring to. Sherlock was going to be in for a shock if Johanna did move into the flat with him. He waved a hand when the smaller doctor gave him a look. 

She slid her mobile back into her pocket, limping towards the tall male as she questioned him.

“Have you been around women more than a few weeks?”

“Not really,” he admitted, watching her with what looked to be fascination. “Why do you ask?”

“The worst I get is one week out of the month when hormones are an issue,” Johanna replied, standing in front of him. Being a doctor, mentioning this issue wasn’t as embarrassing as it could be but his attitude towards her PTSD indicated that he may be able to handle the once a month female issue without a problem. 

“I have not been around women for a great length of time, outside of my mother,” he told her. “I suppose we shall see how it goes.”

“You did say we needed to be open regarding potential problems,” she said to him. 

“That I did,” he agreed. “Are you free to view the flat now?”

“I am,” Johanna said to him. “I’m Johanna Watson,” she introduced herself, holding her hand out to him.

“Sherlock Holmes,” he said, taking her hand for a brief moment. “If you’ll wait a few moments, I need to retrieve my riding crop from the morgue.”

She shook her head, wondering just how crazy this man was and then pondering her own sanity by her agreement to view a flat with him. The small woman shrugged, following him out of the lab and into the morgue. 

The silence between them was easy, lasting until Sherlock flagged a cab. She settled herself as comfortable as possible before looking at her potential flatmate.

“Given the question you asked me earlier, I take it you’re some kind of genius or really good at observing people.”

“Both,” the curly haired male answered. “You stand at parade rest when you come to a stop and watch the room you are in rather carefully. You took time to position yourself to watch everyone while ensuring your back was not to the door. This is an indicator of your time in the military, especially indicative of the fact that you spent enough time in a war zone to build this habit. Your skin is tanned in the areas where a shirt does not cover but is pale above the wrists. This is not typical of sunbathing so you were in a desert area during part of your time in the military.”

He drew a breath and continued on with the explanation of his observations. The detective was not quite certain how the woman would react to words he was sharing.

“You mentioned to Stamford that things had changed since you were last here and the familiarity with which he treated you indicates that you both were in uni together as well as spending your residency and training at St. Bart’s. Given your time in the military, you were a surgeon until you were invalided out due to a shoulder wound.

“You could have stayed with your brother but decided not to due to his drinking issues as well as the way he treats you and his ex-wife.”

“How did you know about the drinking,” Johanna asked. The drinking problem her sister had was only part of the reason as to why she wouldn’t ask her only sibling for help. Harry had thrown it at her in a rage after she’d inquired to the whereabouts of her former sister-in-law as the doctor had not been told about the split up. Johanna had been told to keep it and if her financial situation had been better, she wouldn’t be using it at all.

“Your mobile has scratches near the charge port,” he explained. “Even drunk, a person will automatically hook their mobile up to charge at night. The hands shake, leaving the marks on the phone. You always see those scratches on the mobile of an intoxicated individual but never on the one that belongs to a sober male.”

“Incredible,” she breathed out, shaking her head. 

“You think so,” he asked, looking over at her with those unusually colored eyes.

“I do, and you’re nearly spot on. However, Harry is short for Harriet.”

Sherlock frowned, fist clenching for a moment as he processed what he’d been told. It was obvious he did not like having missed the gender of the subject he had been speaking about.

“Sister instead of a brother. There’s always something I miss.”

“Don’t feel bad,” she told him. “You did remarkably well on the other things, and Harry is usually a male name. I’ve never seen anyone read that much detail from my appearance or a mobile before.”

“You’re the first to say anything nice about it. It’s not the response I usually get.”

“What is the response you get?”

He gave her an amused look when he answered the question she’d put to him.

“Piss off.”

Johanna bit back a laugh, realizing that most people would be unnerved by someone picking up that much information simply by looking at them.

“I had wondered what it was you’d seen when you looked at me.”  
Any question he may have regarding that comment was cut off when the cab arrived at its destination.

“221 Baker Street,” the cabbie announced and Johanna exited the vehicle, digging in her pocket for her wallet. She was forestalled by Sherlock handing the driver a wad of bills before gesturing to the door.

“Welcome to Baker Street, Dr. Watson.”


	2. A New Home and Holmes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – I have been rather amazed by the response to this so far, and I can’t thank everyone for giving this story a chance. I’ve been bouncing around between stories during the breaks from my original story writing time, wanting to keep updating and working on the fan-fiction wombats that have been gnawing on me repeatedly.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “Sherlock” nor do I make any money from this story. I just enjoy torturing the characters.

Johanna waited beside Sherlock as he knocked on the heavy black door, watching as he bounced on the balls of his feet for a few moments before the door opened by an elderly lady. For a brief moment, the physician was reminded of an eager puppy or kitten that was excited to see its favorite human or toy. The dirty-blond haired woman was rather quick to throw that analogy from her thoughts before she could succumb to the giggles that threatened to emerge. Her features remained passive when the door partially opened to reveal an older woman.

“Sherlock! It is good to see you. Here to see the flat again?”

“Yes, I am, Mrs. Hudson. This is my potential flatmate, Dr. Watson. I thought I could show her the flat and see what she thinks.”

Mrs. Hudson smiled, opening the door for them. Johanna could see the open affection the older woman had for the man with her, and she could see that her possible landlady was a good woman. That made her feel much better about the possibility of sharing a flat with the male beside her.

“Welcome, dear,” the elderly lady said with a warm smile. “Go on up with him and take a look around. There’s a second bedroom on the next floor with the flat if you decide on two rooms.”

“I’m glad there’s two bedrooms,” Johanna said gently, not wanting the landlady to believe there was more between her and Sherlock. It seemed odd to her that the idea would even come to the woman’s mind, but she said nothing of it as she continued to speak to Mrs. Hudson. “I’ve only just met him today; my friend Mike seemed to believe that he and I would work out as flatmates. I’m hoping he’s right as I’d rather like to get out of the bedsit I’ve been bunking in lately.”

“Bedsit? Oh you poor dear, those things are dreadful at times. Go on and have a look around,” she told the younger woman, shooing her up the stairs.

Johanna made her way up the stairs, finding a flat that was furnished but not decorated or lived in. There was quite a bit of space, and it was warm even though it had been empty for some time. She could easily see herself living here, and the size and location of the flat made her wonder at one particular thing.

“What do you think?”

“It’s very nice,” she began, looking over at him. “What’s the rent though?”

Sherlock quoted a price that took her by surprise. How was it possible to get something like this for that amount of money? He answered the question before she could ask it, much to her relief.

“Some time back, I did her a favor regarding her husband’s legal issues in Florida. The man was facing execution for crimes he’d been accused of.”

“So you got him off and kept him from being executed?”

His reply forced her to school her expressions because she had wanted to laugh when she heard the answer.

“No, I ensured there was ample evidence to convict him and get him the death penalty. Mrs. Hudson offered the discount when she heard I was looking for a better place to live. She seems to be rather fond of me because of what I did for her.”

“I must admit, Sherlock, that you are the first person I’ve ever heard of who was able to get a discount simply for proving a husband’s guilt. If the rent remains that low, I can swing my half of that,” she told him. “I would like to take a look upstairs first before I commit to it.”

Sherlock nodded, still looking as if he had way too much energy to burn, and she headed through a door to find another set of stairs. Moving slowly, she went up the small flight of steps and found a bedroom at the top of them.

The room was done in a soft shade of blue, which she found to be rather restful. There was a wardrobe in a corner that contained some drawers at the bottom for storage. The bed was a platform type that had drawers along the bottom as well. The room also contained a small nightstand beside the bed and a bookcase.

Even at this time of day, the bedroom didn’t allow in a lot of light and that suited Johanna quite well actually. She gave a quiet sigh, knowing she wanted to live here and would sign the lease that day if her landlady had it ready. In truth, the doctor would rather move in that evening to get out of the dreary bedsit she was currently living in. A relocation would be just what she needed to try to get her life going again.

The former military woman headed back to the living room, finding Sherlock waiting on her. He watched her with an intent gaze that missed nothing. For some reason, that gaze seemed to make her feel a bit more reassured with her decision.

“Well?”

“I like it,” she told him. “I think it’ll suit me nicely; you really did find a wonderful place.”

He gave her a bit of a smile at that, looking relieved. 

“She informed me that she’s got the lease ready, and we’ll be able to move in once we sign it. Do you have anything large to move in?”

Johanna shook her head, fighting back the upset that twisted her stomach. The only pieces she had wanted to keep after her father’s death had been sold by her mother long before Johanna had reached adulthood. 

“My rucksack and a few boxes,” she admitted, keeping her shoulders squared for now. “Not much so I might be able to move in tonight if Mrs. Hudson is willing. That bedsit can be a bit much to handle honestly.”

“I think she’d be pleased to have someone else besides herself in the building tonight,” he answered. “I doubt she’ll argue against you moving in this evening.”

“I’ll ask her though,” she told him as they headed downstairs. She was careful on the steps, navigating them with the cane in one hand and the other hand on the railing.  
Mrs. Hudson was waiting, an eager look in her eyes when the pair popped their heads into her flat.

“What do you think,” the older lady asked the two, smiling brightly when she heard their answers.

“We’ll take it,” Sherlock began, nodding when Johanna stepped in with her query.

“Sherlock mentioned that you happen to have the lease ready for us to sign, Mrs. Hudson? Also, would you be all right if I moved in this evening?”

“I wouldn’t mind at all, dear. Best to get you out of that bedsit soon as possible and it’ll be nice to have company here tonight,” she answered. “I do have the lease ready for you two and a pen if you need one.”

Sherlock and Johanna sat at the table, reading the document before setting their signatures to it. Both received a key, which the doctor added to her sparsely filled key ring. All of the necessary things regarding rubbish pick up and utilities were discussed, and the small woman had a feeling that her new flatmate had possibly tuned out part of the conversation.

Once everything was through, Johanna headed back to the bedsit to pack the few odds and ends that weren’t usually put away before turning her key into the manager. The taxi ride was one she relished, even though it would hit her wallet rather hard. For once, she didn’t care since she knew she would be in a place she would enjoy and hopefully be able to relax in. If she had to eat pot noodles until her next pension check, so be it.

Mrs. Hudson opened the door for her when she arrived, and Johanna was grateful for that as her arms were full of the two boxes that she’d brought with her along with the military rucksack. Her cane was looped over her arm so she had to walk carefully to keep the injured leg stable.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hudson; I truly appreciate the help.”

“Not a problem, dear. I’ll get the flat door for you too so you won’t have to make multiple trips on that leg of yours.”

“You, dear lady, are an angel,” she told the woman, slowly navigating the stairs behind her. The comment made the older lady laugh.

“Oh heavens, you are a bit of a silly one but thank you, dearie.”

Mrs. Hudson opened the flat for her, and Johanna headed to her room to set the boxes and rucksack down. She was quick to notice the linens waiting for her and smiled to herself, grateful for her new landlady. This would hold her until the money came in where she could buy linens for herself.

A quick look into the living room showed that the landlady had retired to her own flat, so Johanna went ahead and began unpacking. She started with her boxes first, placing the books on the shelf by subject and alphabetized within each section. The few knickknacks and pictures she owned were put up, displayed carefully on the shelves in front of the books. Her alarm clock was put on the nightstand, plugged in and set to display the correct time.

Before long, all of her clothing was put away and the rucksack placed in a drawer in case she needed again. The bed was made to military and hospital standards, the spare blankets she owned placed in a drawer in the bed so she could reach them if it grew cool enough. Once her sidearm was put away, Johanna disposed of the boxes and then headed to the living room.

The physician sank into the smaller chair, resting the cane against the side of it. The space of the flat was already doing her quite a bit of good; the bedsit had been too cramped and had often caused her a lot of discomfort during the night. She gave a tired sigh, eyes closing for a brief moment as she relished the quiet serenity of her surroundings.

The silence she was appreciating was broken by the sound of a knock on the door, and she reached for her cane so she could rise to her feet. It took a moment to gain her equilibrium before she headed to the door. Mrs. Hudson’s smiling face greeted her when the door to the flat opened.

“I doubt you’ve had a chance to get some shopping done, dear, and I thought you might be hungry after the unpacking you’ve been doing. I’d be happy to have you share dinner with me and maybe a cup of tea?”

“I don’t want to intrude,” Johanna began, and her landlady smiled even brighter at her.  
“It’s not an intrusion at all, Dr. Watson. Truth be told, it’d be nice to have a spot of company tonight.”

There simply was no way to decline when the physician heard that, and she gracefully capitulated. The former captain knew all too well what it was like to dine alone, and she knew it would be nice to have some companionship tonight. 

“I’ll come but on one condition,” she told the older woman. “You call me Johanna.”  
“A lovely name,” Mrs. Hudson told her. “I’d be happy to call you by your first name, Johanna. Thank you, dear.”

“No, thank you for your kindness,” she said in reply. “I had not given thought as to what to do for dinner tonight.”

“I always end up making too much,” the older woman answered, leading the way down the stairs. “It leaves me with a lot of leftovers, which I typically don’t mind, but it gets rather lonesome eating by myself after a while.”

“I understand,” Johanna murmured, using both cane and railing to help steady her descent. She’d nibbled her way through too many solitary meals since her discharge and knew all too well how awful it could feel.

Mrs. Hudson led the doctor into her flat, guiding her to the table where she could sit in comfort. The older woman laughed, waving off any offers of assistance as she did so.

“Not to worry, dear, it won’t take me long to get this onto the table. Would wine be all right for you,” she asked, not knowing if her new tenant had to abstain from drinking or not.

“Truthfully, Mrs. Hudson, I would prefer some water please,” Johanna requested, knowing some of the medications she was on would not blend well with alcohol.

“Not a problem,” her landlady stated, putting a glass of ice water on the table in front of her first before getting the food onto the table as well.

Once everything was done, Mrs. Hudson and Johanna served themselves and the former military woman gave a soft contented sigh when the flavor of the roasted chicken burst across her taste buds.

“That is delicious,” she said to her hostess. “I don’t think I have had anything that tastes this good in years.”

“You’d think they would feed you better in the army,” the older woman said, shaking her head. “Especially considering all the hard work the soldiers do for Queen and Country.”

“They fed us nutritious meals, but no one can ever say they taste good,” Johanna quipped back, a small smile showing at the familiar complaint she and her fellow Fusiliers had griped over during her time with them. That was a memory that didn’t hurt, and it felt nice to be able to remember the good natured banter they’d shared about the meals.

“It’s still not right,” Mrs. Hudson replied. “I’m glad I was able to make something you would enjoy, Johanna. You’re too thin, especially for a soldier.”

Blue eyes looked down at her plate as her hand shook for a moment while playing with the mashed potatoes. She knew her health wasn’t completely recovered, and it stung to be reminded of it as it brought up the bitter thoughts of what else she had lost because of her injuries.

“I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

Johanna managed to give her another small smile, shaking her while she did so.

“It’s all right, Mrs. Hudson. You did nothing wrong,” she reassured her, not liking the expression of guilt on her dining companion’s face.

“Are you certain, dear? I seemed to have put my foot in it,” she said softly, not liking the too controlled expression on the other woman’s face.

“It’s fine,” Johanna answered, then took another bite of her meal. It would take time to work her way through her issues, if she could find a way to do so. 

“Are you working currently as a doctor?”

“Not at the moment,” she replied. “I’m not entirely certain which direction I want to head into since I can no longer work at my specialty.”

“What was your specialty, if you don’t mind my asking,” the older woman asked, taking a bite of her meal.

“I am..was a trauma surgeon,” Johanna answered, fighting to keep her tone and expression neutral for this discussion.

“Goodness, that is amazing,” Mrs. Hudson commented. “I’ve heard that’s an incredibly difficult field to specialize in. That’s definitely something to be proud of, dear.”

Johanna blinked at that, surprised by the compliment. Her mother had fussed about the decision to become a doctor and Harry hadn’t cared at all, just calling her a nerd and other names that had stung. She’d managed to push that aside, keeping her head down to focus on her studies.

“I suppose so,” she managed to answer. “Given I can no longer preform surgeries, I might look into working in an A&E once I’m steadier.”

“I’ve heard they can always use good doctors there,” the older woman agreed. “A lot of times, there’s a lot of accidents and injuries that come in and it seems like there’s not enough doctors to go around.”

“I think that’s a normal situation to find anywhere,” Johanna murmured, struggling to push certain memories out of her mind. “No matter how well staffed a place is, once things get rough, there’s never enough qualified hands to do what’s needed.”

Mrs. Hudson nodded and changed the subject to other topics that would not trouble her new tenant. Both women found the other to be intelligent, witty at times, and rather observant. By the time the meal was over, Johanna felt more comfortable around the older female and knew she’d enjoy spending time with her landlady, although she could do without the gossip.

It was with a full stomach and several wrapped plates in hand that Johanna cautiously made her way up the stairs. She didn’t feel nearly as stressed as she had earlier, and the relaxation felt nice considering she had been incredibly overwhelmed by things since her discharge from the military.

The doctor opened the door to her flat, coming to an abrupt halt inside the door when her eyes fell onto a tall figure standing within the living room. Her fingers tightened on her cane, stance shifting to an alert one.

“Doctor Watson, I presume?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – Uh oh, who might this newcomer be? Thanks for reading my story and hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think of it. See everyone next chapter! ~ Laran


	3. The Doctor Meets the British Government

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – Chapter two certainly gained favorable response, and I’m so pleased for that. It’s good to know that everyone is enjoying the story so far, and I’m getting rather fond of it. I’m looking forward to seeing how the story and series unfold and how everyone likes it. Thank you for being so patient in waiting for this update!
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “Sherlock” or make any money from this tale. I simply enjoy playing with the characters to flex my own literary muscles.

At the words from the stranger, Johanna quickly focused on him, not certain if he meant harm or not. The plates were set on a small table near the door, freeing up her other hand in case she needed to defend herself. A brief scan showed that the only intruder was the tall man in the flat with her and though the knowledge was comforting, the former soldier was not pleased to have her new home violated like this.

“What are you doing here,” she asked, voice firm as she continued to eye the other man. 

At the moment, she was rather displeased that her sidearm was upstairs in her room but it didn’t mean she was completely helpless. 

“I decided to pay a call as you signed a lease to share this flat with Sherlock Holmes,” the auburn haired man answered, watching her with keen eyes.

Johanna was quick to notice that he was actually looking at her in nearly the same way as her flatmate had when they met earlier in the day, but there were differences in the gaze. While Sherlock’s had been rife with intense interest and curiosity, this newcomer’s eyes held disdain but did reflect the same intelligence that shone in the unusually colored eyes of her flatmate. The doctor didn’t like what she was seeing and straightened her spine, military perfect.

“So you decided to break into my flat because of this,” she asked, voice low. 

“I want to know your connection to him,” the male demanded, noticing her posture and responding to it with his own air of command. Much to his annoyance, the woman did not seem affected by it, maintaining a cool, placid expression as she continued to meet his eyes.

“That is not your concern,” Johanna replied, still keeping a very watchful eye on the intruder.

“I am afraid I shall have to disagree with you on that point,” he answered. “It very much is my concern.”

“No, it isn’t,” she rebutted. “I’ll thank you to leave now.”

He gave her a frigid stare that was returned with equal measure. The auburn haired man leaned on his umbrella, watching her once more.

“I am aware that, as a wounded veteran returning home, your pension will not leave you much room for any luxury purchases,” he began. “I would be willing to pay you for information about Sherlock Holmes. I would like to hear about his daily activities, general wellbeing, things of that nature.”

“Absolutely not,” she answered, words clipped and formal. The doctor was very appalled by the offer this man was making, going against her sense of honor and personal integrity.

“I haven’t mentioned a sum yet,” the stranger rebutted, raising an eyebrow when she cut him off.

“You don’t need to,” Johanna told him. “If you want to know these things so badly, ask him yourself. I’ll not be a spy for anyone.”

“We have a very tense relationship, he and I. Sherlock would not answer any questions I would put to him so I must find other means of getting the information I require. I worry about him constantly.”

“Regardless, I will not spy on him for you or anyone else. Your relationship with him is your problem, not mine,” she replied.

He pulled a notebook from an inner pocket of his coat, opening it to the page he had marked.

“You must have found an alternative means of supporting yourself due to your difficulties or you are delusional about your financial circumstances. Considering the fact that your physical therapist is baffled as to why your right ankle, which has healed adequately enough to support you with the brace you were issued, still causes you enough difficulties to force you to retain a limp. According to the records, you should only limp during poor weather or too much stress. Add to that, the tremor in your left hand is due to nerve damage due to the bullet wound you received to your shoulder and the complications that resulted after you received the injuries. This would be why you can no longer work as a surgeon.”

“Are those my medical records,” Johanna asked, voice growing tense as she realized what the man was holding. The tension coiled tighter within her abdomen, turning into absolute fury when the intruder continued to read from his notebook.

“Your therapist has stated that you have trust issues and seems to believe that you have fallen into a form of disassociation as well as suffering from PTSD and self-esteem issues. She feels, quite correctly, that the emotional issues are what is contributing to the limp.”

Her quick mind put facts together and the rage burned hotter, and her expression turned into one that had scared the soldiers she had commanded not long ago. Her voice took on a frigid quality, low but easily heard, and had her uninvited guest done further research into her, he would have known that he had truly pushed the woman too far. 

“You have overstepped yourself,” she said icily, taking a step towards him and removing the notebook from his hands before he could think to pull it out of her reach. The physician read over what was written, then looked up at the man. It was obvious she was not intimidated by the height difference at all as she squared off in front of him.

“Are you uneducated or just mentally deficient?”

“I beg your pardon,” he asked, sounding insulted and a tad angry.

“You must be one of the two as you have done something was not only highly illegal but incredibly unethical,” Johanna continued. “You have not only broken into offices to remove information that you do not have the right to obtain but also violated the sanctity of the confidentiality that every patient has a right to have with their doctors.”  
He tried to interject when she drew in a breath to continue, but he had no chance to do so as the irate physician spoke again.

“You have violated my privacy in an attempt to do the same to my flatmate’s, and I am infuriated by what you have done. My medical records are between myself and my physicians and as a medical professional, I am appalled that the confidentiality that is granted to medical personnel and their patients has been shattered. It wasn’t just my life you tried to play with; you have just destroyed the careers of two medical professionals because you couldn’t keep your overly large proboscis out of affairs that do not concern you.”

His eyes widened as she pulled her mobile out of her pocket and dialed a number. 

“Yes, I’d like to report a break in. The intruder is still in my flat, and I would like him removed,” she told the operator, giving the address as she did so. Her eyes flashed a warning at him when he tried to take a step forward, stance shifting to show that she would use physical means to keep him where he was.

The call on the mobile ended and, hoping to take advantage of her distraction, the man lunged in hopes of getting the notebook back and himself out of the flat. It was a tad out of character for himself as he despised legwork but there was no way he could be found here, even with his government identification.

The response was not what he had expected at all. He’d thought that his size as well as the timing of the maneuver would work out to his benefit, but the small doctor had surprised him yet again. The former military woman turned into his attack, using his momentum against him as she buried her shoulder into his midriff and flipped him over her. The auburn haired male hit the floor hard, chin bouncing off of the carpeted surface to stun him further. Before he could regain his breath, Johanna had restrained his hands with her belt and had somehow hogtied him using that and several curtain tie backs.

“Johanna, is everything all right up there?”

She poked her captive with her cane, warning him silently not to move while she called down to her landlady.

“Everything is fine now, Mrs. Hudson. Would you be so kind to let the police in when they arrive?”

“Police? What happened?”

“There was an intruder in my flat when I came up the stairs,” the doctor told the older woman. “I’m not hurt, but he’s a bit tied up at the moment.”

“I’ll have to have someone in to look at the doors and windows,” the older lady fretted. 

“I’m glad you’re all right, dear. I’ll make sure to let the police in when they get here.”

“Thank you,” she called back, eyes on her captive. An idea came to her, and she snapped a couple of pictures with her mobile. Johanna didn’t have her flatmate’s number, but she could show him tomorrow when he moved in. Maybe the man could tell her who this arrogant arsehole on her floor is.

The ringing of the front door’s bell soon filled the flat, and she could hear the voice of her landlady drift up quietly. Johanna could not determine what was being said, but she did hear the sound of footsteps hurrying up the stairs that led up to her flat. Within seconds, her blue eyes spotted the figures of several policeman as well as the distinctive form of her new flatmate.

“Sherlock?”

“I came by to drop a few delicate items off before the movers picked up the rest of my belongings tomorrow morning. Mrs. Hudson told me there was an intruder?”

Johanna nodded, slipping her mobile back into her pocket. She was able to relax now that she wasn’t alone with the stranger. 

“There is,” she answered, gesturing to the bound figure on the floor. She continued speaking as the police began to untie him and put restraints around his wrists. Her belt was handed back to her, which she set on the table by the food Mrs. Hudson had sent up with her.

“I came up here after sharing a meal with Mrs. Hudson and found this man in the flat.   
The door outside had been locked so I am not sure how he got in. He tried to bribe me for information about you and then began reading off notes he’d somehow managed to steal from both my physical therapist as well as another therapist I see. I know both of them well enough to know they wouldn’t have given out any of my medical records so he had to have somehow broken into their databases to get the information,” she said, handing an officer the notebook.

Sherlock’s unusual eyes widened when he spotted who it was that had caused this uproar. The other officer had helped the man off of the floor, reading the intruder his rights as he did so.

“Mycroft?”

Before the man could answer, the consulting detective began laughing, not hiding his amusement at the predicament his brother was now in. He would have to get the full story from Johanna once the police escorted his sibling off of the premises. Given the story and the way she was cautiously eyeing the older Holmes, it was obvious she had been the one to capture and restrain him. Sherlock had a feeling his brother would not live this down for a while as the doctor was incredibly short and slender; Mycroft was taller and outweighed her so this happening would be an incredible embarrassment for the man. All in all, the detective was extremely amused by the series of events.

“This is not amusing, Sherlock. Officer, this has been a simple misunderstanding. If you will check my pockets, you will find my official identification.”

Johanna’s eyes narrowed at the restrained man, body still as her temper flared.

“So having an official ID makes this all better? It gives you the right to not only break into my flat but also take my medical records? It gives you the right to spy on people? I think not,” she ground out. “Please get this man out of my flat, officers, and I will give you the contact information for the two medical professionals he stole the records from so you can get in touch with them.”

She wrote down the names and telephone numbers for her physical therapist and therapist, handing them to the officer holding onto the notebook. Once that was done, the policemen escorted Mycroft out, leaving the two flatmates alone.

“I think Mycroft will be cursing himself for underestimating you,” Sherlock stated, snickering a bit. “Damn, I should have gotten pictures of him tied up.”

Johanna pulled her mobile out, looking to the laughing detective.

“What’s your mobile number,” she asked, getting the pictures marked to send to him. “And how do you know the man?”

Sherlock gave her the number, then added a reply to her question.

“Unfortunately, Mycroft is my older brother and feels that he has the right to constantly interfere with my life. I take it he tried to offer you a bribe to spy on me?”

She added his number to her contact list, then sent the pictures to his phone while she answered the question.

“He did, the arrogant arse. I still can’t believe he helped himself to my medical records. He’s lucky all I did was put him on the ground,” she grumbled, feeling angry.

He chuckled, reviewing the pictures while answering her. Sherlock forwarded the photos to his mother, snickering to himself at the wry response he received once she had seen the pictures. Mycroft was not going to hear the end of this for a very long time.

“Oh I believe he will think twice about approaching you with that kind of arrogance again. You did well, Johanna. I’ve never seen him like that before.”

“You might again if he continues to be an arrogant arse,” she grumbled, picking up the plates and heading to the kitchen. “Have you eaten? I’ve got some of the leftover roast from Mrs. Hudson.”

“I have not eaten and would enjoy some of her roast,” he answered, putting away the fragile items he had brought to the flat.

Johanna smiled, starting tea as well as heating up one of the plates for her new flatmate. Although she could have done without the problem with his brother, she had a feeling life was going to be rather interesting. She was pleased she’d accepted Sherlock’s offer and wondered what would happen the next time her path crossed with Mycroft’s.

With a sigh, she set the plate on the table and called Sherlock to the table, thinking that things would be chaotic once he moved in tomorrow. A part of her couldn’t wait to see what would happen next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – I hope everyone enjoyed the confrontation with Mycroft. I know I enjoyed writing it! I’ll be working on updates and moving forward with this story. Please let me know what you thought of it! ~ Laran


	4. Settling In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – The reviews I’ve gotten so far for the last chapter have been positive, and I appreciate those of you who spared a few moments to let me know what you thought of it. It seems I made at least one of you laugh with the scene between Johanna and Mycroft. Truthfully, it made me laugh while writing it. I’m really enjoying this story, and it feels as if the tale is writing itself. That’s always fun to experience.
> 
> To the one reviewer who left a review but not signed in, I’m honored I was able to set you onto a new aspect of the “Sherlock” fandom. Since you do enjoy the gender-bent aspect now, I suggest you look up OleanderHoney’s stories. She was the one who got me interested in writing a female John to begin with. You cannot go wrong with her works!
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “Sherlock” nor do I make money from writing this tale. I simply enjoy playing with the characters that are owned by the estate of Arthur Conan Doyle and the BBC.

Heat seemed to be all encompassing as the noise of artillery fire, explosions, orders being barked out, and screams of the wounded that begged for aid filled the sand filled air. It was bright, too bright, and the explosions seemed to push the radiance level into a higher spectrum than was comfortable for anyone in the area. The screams for medical attention seemed overwhelming, and the name of the unit’s medic resounded powerfully as the small figure dashed to the first patient to try to drag the man to cover so he could be stabilized.

“Sniper!”

Johanna sat up, a scream bit back before it could be heard and her hand went to her shoulder. She shuddered, closing her eyes for a moment and forcing her breathing into a calmer pace to try to calm down from the rush of emotion. 

“London, not Afghanistan. You’re all right, Watson. Pull yourself together,” she muttered to herself, trying to push the panic away. “No snipers or wounded, just you. Pull it together.”

The doctor pushed back the riptide of emotions that were threatening to overwhelm her, reaching for her dressing gown so she could put the garment on before heading downstairs. A cup of tea would be precisely what she needed to try to relax. Once it was tied, she rose to her feet and grabbed her cane, limping down the stairs to the living room.

After making the tea, Johanna moved into the living room, curling up on the sofa to try to relax and enjoy the soothing herbal mix of chamomile and vanilla with a dash of honey. The quiet atmosphere was relaxing, but she found that she missed the noise that had followed her flatmate when he had come by earlier that evening. The chaos that had surrounded him had been jarring but entertaining at the same time, and the small woman was looking forward to having that in the flat again. Silence tended to allow her to drift into bad memories, and that was the last thing she wanted after a nightmare.

Time passed slowly between cups of tea, and it was seven thirty in the morning when the too solemn atmosphere was disturbed by the cyclone of energy that was Sherlock Holmes. He paused after taking three steps into the flat, watching her for several long seconds.

“I hadn’t expected you to be awake at this hour. Bad dreams, I take it?”

“One of things I warned you to expect when you brought up the idea of sharing a flat,” she reminded the genius. “They happen to be more common than I’d like.”

Dark curls fell over his forehead when he nodded, setting a box down onto the desk.

“The movers will be here in about half an hour,” he told her. “I decided to be here early so I could determine where to put everything. Do you have an issue if I were to use the kitchen for a laboratory?”

“I don’t mind as long as there’s space to store the dishware and tea necessities. I can’t cook, so I pretty much buy frozen foods or salads to eat most of the time. Leave me room for that without fear of contamination, and I won’t complain as long as proper laboratory protocols are maintained.”

He gave her a small smile, pleased with her answer. Sherlock had a feeling they might get along rather well after all, and Johanna was proving him to be right at every turn. 

“I will endeavor to do so,” he replied, starting to unpack the box he had brought in.

“In the meantime, I need to shower and get ready for the day. If you need help with unpacking after I’m done, I don’t mind lending a hand.”

When he didn’t answer, Johanna went up to get a change of clothing before heading downstairs to use the bathroom. She hung the dressing gown on the hook and laid her change of clothing on the toilet before starting the water for the shower. The old pipes groaned when the water pressure changed, diverting water up to 221B’s bathroom, and it took a few moments before the liquid warmed enough for the doctor to begin to clean up for the day.

Showered, groomed, and dressed, Johanna carried her night wear and dressing gown up to her room, putting it away, before limping downstairs to join her flatmate in the living room. Boxes were all over the place with more coming as the movers brought the cardboard containers into the flat.

“My goodness,” she commented, looking around. The physician had not expected to see this many containers and was reminded that not many people had to live a simple life as she had lately. 

“It does seem like a lot, but most of it contains books or case files,” Sherlock answered, hanging what looked to be a cow’s head on the wall.

“All right then,” Johanna said, knowing she would be adding to her own library as funds allowed. “Where should I start?”

“Books, if you don’t mind. I have them separated and packed by subject,” he replied, putting headphones on the cow, and she hid a laugh at the sight.

“Alphabetized?”

“Yes,” Sherlock said, pulling a skull out of another box and setting it on the mantel. He noticed Johanna’s stare and shrugged. 

“It’s a friend; well, I say friend,” he trailed off.

“It’s fine, Sherlock. Unique choice for decoration but fine,” she told him, opening a box to begin sorting through the first books. Johanna quickly alphabetized the books in each subject, then began loading the shelves from bottom to top, leaving the ones she couldn’t reach for her flatmate to fill.

The small woman got quite a bit done before having to stop, going to where her medical kit was stored in her room to retrieve her heating treatment. The bag had been gifted to her by a nurse before she had been released from hospital, and it was a dark blue fabric sewn together to hold the rice that had been stuffed into the bag. Johanna heated it in the microwave before limping to the chair she’d claimed and laid it over her injured shoulder. The bag curved around her shoulder while the heated rice began to soothe the bone deep ache.

“You have been released from physical therapy,” Sherlock asked, looking at her for a few moments to analyze just how bad she was feeling.

“Yes, I have,” Johanna replied, realizing what he was about to ask. “There are several series of exercises I have to do every day for both shoulder and ankle, but there was little more the physical therapist can do. Unfortunately, overdoing it can cause the shoulder to flare up.”

“The shoulder is a necessary body part, uses almost consistently throughout the day so that will be something you will have to live with,” he mused. “As it grows older, the wound might not flare as much due to being used.”

“But the weather will be problematic,” the doctor agreed, holding a slight note of unhappiness in her voice. “Living where I do, that’s something I have to put up with for the rest of my life. I’ve got a few reliable homeopathic remedies to use so I don’t have to rely on pharmaceuticals all the time. I have had enough of certain medications.”

The consulting detective frowned at that statement and the tone used. It hinted at something else, a possible complication during his flatmate’s recovery, and he did not comment on it when he spotted the look on her face. However, he would be alert for more hints regarding her past and the recovery she had gone through after her injuries in Afghanistan. The doctor was becoming more interesting by the moment, and he was rather intrigued by her. The actions she had taken last night had proven that her spirit had not been broken even though he had thought it was close to that when he had seen her at Bart’s.

Sherlock continued to unpack, occasionally watching her as the heated pack began to work on her. He noticed the tense lines of her body began to ease into relaxation, realizing that it wasn’t just the heat that was helping her relax. When he passed her to put some files onto the desk, he caught a floral scent emanating from the unusual bag over her shoulder.

“Jasmine,” he asked, knowing she wasn’t asleep even though her eyes were closed.

“Yes,” she answered quietly. “The nurse who made this for me usually puts lavender into these, but I’m allergic so she put jasmine into it to help me relax. She showed me how to put new scent in once this one fades.”

Johanna opened an eye, looking at her flatmate as a thought occurred to her.

“Question, Sherlock, and I know it’s rather stupid but I need to know. Do you know how to use an epi-pen?”

“I do,” he answered, tilting his head at her. “You have allergies severe enough to require that you carry one?”

“Unfortunately,” the small woman answered. “I’ll have to get the list to you so you know what to keep away from me if any of the substances are required for your experiments. It’s not a long one, but the reactions are serious enough to hospitalize me. I usually keep it in my left jacket pocket in case it’s needed, and I am unable to administer it myself.”

“Understood,” Sherlock replied, storing the data away but keeping it close enough at hand in case it was required. He would not want to risk his flatmate’s health in regards to these allergies. She was proving to be unique, and the detective was pleased to have   
found her.

The watch on her wrist chimed at her, and Johanna frowned as she stared at it before rising to her feet with a soft groan. She limped upstairs, somehow managing to keep a hold on her cane and not dislodge the heat pack.

Sherlock frowned, a bit intrigued when his flatmate came back down with a hand clenched around something as she limped into the kitchen. He could hear her muttering under her breath but couldn’t tell what she was saying as it was in a language he didn’t recognize. Water ran for a few moments, and he could see her fill a glass and take what looked to be several large pills and a few smaller tablets.

Johanna cleaned the glass, reheated her pack, and then went back to her chair. Once she was situated, the detective turned to look at her. Before he could ask, she held up a hand to stop the question that she knew was coming. For some reason, the doctor did not seem to mind sharing a bit more about herself than she usually would with anyone around her.

“My immune system took a beating after I was shot; I had multiple infections and wound up catching pneumonia and a form of malaria that managed to slip through the medications the army gives its troops,” she murmured. “Even though I’ve been released from the care of my physical therapist, I’ve not been medically cleared to return to any form of medical work yet.”

“Not until your body rebuilds enough strength to handle exposure to common illnesses again,” Sherlock theorized, taken a bit aback by the limited information she had given him. Given her appearance, he understood just how difficult her recovery had been up until this point.

“Exactly,” Johanna replied, voice calm. “So it means eating small frequent meals to attain my proper weight, exercise to rebuild my strength, and plenty of vitamins and medications to support my health until I’m back to where I should be physically. Unfortunately, it also means I cannot add to the pension I receive by working at hospital or a surgery until I’m cleared to do so.”

“That would be rather dull,” he responded, sorting through some files.

“Excruciatingly so,” she told him. “I am more the type to try to stay active mentally and physically, and these restrictions only serve to frustrate me.”

“The language you were speaking a few moments ago, what was that? I could not place it,” he asked, turning that uniquely colored gaze onto her.

“Dari,” Johanna answered, adjusting the heat pack on her shoulder. “I picked it and Pashto up during my time in Afghanistan and often helped the translators whenever injured came into the camps or when I was out with my unit. It came in handy quite a few times.”

Sherlock was quiet a moment and before he could speak, she questioned him in hopes of turning the conversation away from her. Johanna wasn’t as uncomfortable speaking about herself as she usually was but would rather have the topic changed.

“Can you tell me about some of the cases you’ve worked in the past?”

Several hours sped by as he shared the various cases he had worked on recently and despite the dry facts that were presented to her, Johanna listened on in fascination. She was able to follow most of his words, putting the facts together to see how he had reached his conclusions.

“You were able to pull all of this together without the aid of the forensics team?”

“I have some understanding of medicine,” Sherlock admitted. “Not as much as a trained surgeon like yourself but enough to work with. Scotland Yard’s forensic experts are a bunch of idiots, and most refuse to work with me.”

“Probably hate it that you’re right where they’re wrong,” she answered, removing the heat pack and setting it onto the table by her chair. “And if some of them think they can solve it as quickly as you do without the benefit of all the facts, then I think delusional may be added to the complaint of stupidity.”

Sherlock chuckled at that, setting up his music stand and supplies for his composing work.

“Very true,” he said. 

“Have you got a case on now,” she asked, rather curious about his work.

“Not at the moment but there is one that has me intrigued. Have you read about the suicides that have been happening?”

Johanna nodded, frowning as she did so.

“The first one happened right before I was released from hospital,” the blond admitted.   
“It seems rather odd that these people would take their own lives, especially since there had been no signs of suicidal ideation before. Either something caused a major downward spiral to the point where there was no way out or there’s more going on behind the scenes that hasn’t emerged yet.”

The detective gave her a look of satisfaction, realizing she’d spotted what had made him curious about the case. She caught the look and went forward with her thoughts.

“Granted, I don’t have the information about their lives but there was no sign of a traumatic event that would have an effect on multiple people to cause a rash of suicides like what happened during the stock market crash that marked the Great Depression in the US. If it was a suicide pact, then it’d mean that the three of them crossed paths somehow in order to form this pact and the plan. I thought I heard or read a report somewhere that said all three victims had no connections to each other at all.”

“Exactly,” he murmured, watching her think through the few details she knew as he finished setting up his music area.

“Somehow, something happened that caused all three of them to kill themselves but what was it? The method of suicide was by ingesting poison, right?”

“Yes, it was according to what I’ve been able to determine,” he answered, sitting in his chair now that the unpacking was finished.

Johanna shook her head, frowning as she thought things through.

“A person could be forced to take the poison but the method would be difficult,” she mused. “I’ve not seen the post-mortem reports so I don’t know if there were any signs of defensive wounds to try to stop someone from pushing the pill down their throat. If someone were to use a gun to threaten them into taking the poison, it might work.”

“Why do you say might,” Sherlock asked, eyes glowing with interest.

“Well, some people do read up on morbid things and would know that poison is not an easy way to die,” she told him. “Truth be told, if someone were try to force me to take a pill that held poison via gunpoint, I’d tell them to use the gun.”

The detective rose from his seat, heading to the window. 

“I think more data will be forthcoming,” he told her. “There’s been a fourth one, and something is different with this one because Lestrade has finally decided to bring me in.”

Johanna heard the doorbell ring and moments later, a man dashed up into their flat. She could see the exhaustion and frustration on his face, realizing he had been pulling long hours on this case. Before he could speak, her flatmate broke the silence.

“What’s different about the suicide this time?”

“You know how they never leave a note? Well, this one did,” Lestrade told the consulting detective. 

“Who’s on forensics,” Sherlock asked, turning to look at the newcomer. He was intrigued by what the policeman had told him but hid it for the moment.

“Anderson,” the silver haired male replied, hiding a groan at the other male’s reaction to the news. Those two never seemed to get along.

“Anderson won’t work with me,” the younger man grumbled, then his expression cleared. “However, I do have someone who has better credentials than he does that can help me.”

“Sherlock, I’m sticking my neck out as it is in asking you to visit the crime scene. You can’t bring just anyone with you just because you feel like it.”

The curly haired detective smirked, turning to his flatmate. Johanna had been listening to the conversation, quickly realizing who it was he had been speaking of when he’d said he had someone with better credentials than this Anderson. She rose to her feet, leaning against the cane for a moment.

“Who is this then?”

Sherlock didn’t answer, eyes focused on Johanna.

“You’ve seen a lot of violent deaths and been in a lot of action,” he began. “Feel up to seeing more?”

Lestrade broke in again, repeating his question with aggravation in his voice. He was frustrated at Sherlock’s refusal to answer him.

“Who is this you’re inviting, Sherlock?”

Her voice answered the police detective, calm and full of authority.

“I am Dr. Johanna Watson, former captain of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers and RAMC surgeon,” she told him. “I will be assisting Sherlock Holmes during this case.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – Another chapter done! The more I write this, the more I like this story and am anxious to keep going on it. I truly hope everyone enjoys this installment. Let me know what you think. ~ Laran


	5. Pink!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – I am so ecstatic at the reception this tale is getting. I wasn’t sure if anyone would like it, and the response has been so overwhelmingly positive. Thank you to all my readers who have taken the time to review and let me know their thoughts!
> 
> To Dani H, your review was so very uplifting. I really hope you enjoy OleanderHoney’s female John stories; she’s really an inspiration and an incredible writer. That you like the direction Johanna is going in regards to her character development means a lot. I didn’t want an exact cookie cutter of John, and it pleases me to know everyone likes her!
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “Sherlock” nor do I make money from this story. I just delight in tormenting the characters.

The ride to the crime scene was quiet for the most part; Johanna knew that Sherlock was quite possibly preparing himself to face whatever it was they were going to find. She was somewhat doing the same, knowing that death was never easy for anyone to face and being a doctor had not made that any less difficult for her. The short haired blond had been a damned good surgeon who had cared very much for the patient under her hands, and Johanna had struggled with losing a life under her care. Her time in the military had not changed that about her.

The cab soon stopped and Johanna emerged from the vehicle, steadying herself while Sherlock paid the driver. She looked around, noticing the crime scene tape marking off one specific building in particular. There were quite a few people, either in uniform or in the blue suits that the forensic teams used, moving around the area.

“Ready, doctor,” the detective asked, standing beside her. His voice was calm despite the line of energy that seemed to make his frame tremble just a bit.

“You’re welcome to call me Johanna,” she told him in reply. “Yes, I’m ready. Let’s see what’s going on here.”

The two walked side by side, Sherlock pacing himself for her limp and shorter stride. She was grateful for that, knowing she did have a longer stride for someone of her height thanks to the marching she’d done during her time with the military. The limp slowed her down, much to her frustration.

“Hello, Freak,” a voice called out, dragging the physician from her thoughts. Her eyes narrowed when she heard the insult the female had used to address her flatmate.

“Good evening, Sargent Donovan,” Sherlock greeted smoothly, ignoring the word the policewoman had called him. 

“Why are you here then,” Donovan asked, looking at the man with loathing in her eyes.

“I’m here to see the crime scene,” the consulting detective answered, remaining calm.

“Why?”

“I was invited,” Sherlock told her, remaining passive as he did so. “Detective Inspector Lestrade asked for me personally.”

“Why,” she asked, making Johanna seriously question the woman’s intelligence as well as her obedience to her superior officers. 

“You should ask Lestrade,” Sherlock answered, somehow remaining patient. 

“Freak’s here, bringing him up,” Donovan called into her radio before lifting the crime scene tape.

Sherlock ducked under it, waiting for Johanna. Once the blond haired woman attempted to cross, the Sargent frowned and stopped her.

“Who’s this then?”

“A colleague who has graciously donated her spare time to assist me on this case,” he said smoothly.

“A colleague,” she asked, sneering at him. “How does someone like you get a colleague?”

Johanna set her teeth, itching to put the woman in her place. The lack of discipline made her inner officer snarl and cry out to be allowed to ensure this so-called police sergeant treated people with respect and not question her superior officer’s decisions. She managed to keep her tongue behind her teeth, allowing Sherlock to respond for the moment. The last thing she needed was to get into a row with this horrid woman.

“Lestrade is waiting,” he reminded her sharply, and the physician was amazed he’d been able to keep his temper in check.

Donovan shook her head, gesturing both of them to enter the crime scene. Johanna ignored her, following her flatmate to the building. There was another confrontation, this time with a scrawny male, and she clenched her fist to keep herself under control. At this rate, she was beginning to wonder if anyone in Scotland Yard had any form of discipline and decorum. The answer wasn’t looking to be a positive one.

Johanna followed him into the building, blinking when a man stopped them again. This one had a younger face, though careworn, and silver touched hair. Even though he was tired, she could see the authority and confidence he carried himself with.

“Sherlock, Dr. Watson, I’m glad you’re here,” Lestrade greeted, then attempted to hand the pair of them the forensic suits.

The surgeon frowned, watching the man don one and shaking her head. With the ache in her shoulder and limited mobility of her ankle, there simply was no way for her to put that jumpsuit on without causing a flare up in either area. Instead, she followed Sherlock’s example and pulled booties over her boots and donned a pair of nitrile gloves.

The three of them moved up the staircase, and Lestrade led them into a plain room that looked to have been empty for a very long while. There were all kinds of equipment in the room, illuminating it better for the forensics team as well as the officers on duty.

Sherlock began investigating the body, and Johanna turned her gaze to the next man that entered the room. She didn’t like this one, knowing he’d copped an attitude with her flatmate earlier.

“Rache, it’s German and means revenge. So she had to be German,” he said, sounding superior and rather snide.

“Actually, she isn’t German,” she informed him as the consulting detective turned to look at her for a moment. She caught Lestrade staring too and turned her attention to Sherlock as he closed the door in the other man’s face.

“Dr. Watson, what can you tell me about our victim,” the tall man asked and she turned to Lestrade for permission, moving only when he gestured that it was all right.

Johanna slipped into professional mode as she knelt on the floor and laid her cane to the side. She checked the woman’s hands, leaning down to see her eyes and sniff her mouth. Carefully, she pulled the sleeves of the obnoxious pink jacket up, investigating the forearms before setting the limbs down.

“What does she tell you, doctor?”

“Quite a bit actually,” the former soldier answered, reporting her findings in a clear, professional tone. “No defensive wounds so whoever brought her here and forced her into this room was controlling her through other means beyond a sharp object. Our victim shows signs of poisoning, potentially cyanide due to the faint scent of almonds present around her mouth and in the vomit beside her. Which really opens up more questions regarding these suicides.”

“What do you mean,” Lestrade asked her, ignoring the smirk on the curly haired male’s face.

“Again, there’s no sign of defensive wounds so whoever forced her into this room possibly used a firearm to control her. Knowing what I do of poison, I’d have forced the killer to shoot me over taking the poison. It takes a while to shut the body down, causing seizures as oxygen fails to reach the internal organs and the seizures are part of what asphyxiates the victim. That she was able to leave us a message while all of this happened to her speaks of her determination, which is how I know she’s not German because if it’d been me, I would have left something of note to help catch my killer.”

“Exactly,” Sherlock jumped in, sounding and looking more energetic than Lestrade had ever seen from him. He listened to the consulting detective’s deductions, scrawling the notes across the pages of his notebook. Dr. Watson’s insight had also been noted down, and the policeman had to admit that he was impressed by the woman’s observations.

Within moments, Johanna realized she’d been left in the building by her now manic flatmate and shook her head. She headed down the stairs, being careful, and disposed of the booties and gloves after emerging onto the street. A quick look around showed that Sherlock was long gone, and she knew she’d have to pay for another taxi.

“You’d be better off staying away from him,” the sergeant informed her.

“Why would that be,” the doctor asked the other woman, eyes sharp while she questioned Donovan’s comment.

“He’s a psychopath, that one. He gets off on this kind of thing, doesn’t get paid or anything. One of these days, we’re going to find Sherlock Holmes standing over a body that he’ll have put there himself.”

Johanna’s voice went crisp and authoritative, hiding the anger she felt on behalf of her flatmate.

“Have you a degree in psychology then, sergeant? A medical degree perhaps?”

“No,” she answered, sounding bewildered by the question.

“I see,” the former captain answered. “I happen to have a medical degree, sergeant, and I am very much aware of the symptoms displayed by someone with the diagnosis you’ve accused Mr. Holmes of having. In the time I’ve spent with him, he’s displayed none of them. Now I have to wonder at you being able to submit such a diagnosis without any sort of medical training in your background at all. If you jump to these kinds of conclusions, then what does that say for your police work?”

The dark skinned woman stared at her, mouth open for a moment as she tried to pull her thoughts together. The tiny female in front of her had just derailed everything, and Donovan wasn’t able to put much together to try to form a rebuttal.

“Well, now I know why he wants you around because it certainly isn’t for your looks,” she sneered. “Surprised he’d want an ugly little thing like you around.”

Johanna wasn’t thin skinned at all, having heard comments like this quite often over the years. She simply tilted her head, giving the woman a pitying look.

“At least the brains are there to be used and admired,” she said with a soft smirk. “Beauty fades but intelligence? That lasts a lifetime because respect always follows alongside that. A woman who gets by on beauty alone finds she’s alone with a lot of regrets because she’s not respected. Have a good evening, sergeant.”

Johanna strolled away, leaning lightly on her cane as she did so. It wasn’t often when she could rebut someone’s harsh comments about her looks, and it felt good to do that tonight. Her mood was high, and not even Sherlock’s disappearing act could dim that.

She hummed to herself, going to the main street to try and catch a taxi back to Baker Street. So far, it was turning out to be a fairly decent evening and the physician was interested to see if anything else would turn up by the time she made it home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – I hope the scene between Johanna and Donovan met expectations; expect more between the pair as this series goes on. Let me know what you think, ok? I’ll see everyone next chapter! ~ Laran


	6. The Case

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – Wow, the response to this chapter has been incredible. I can’t thank everyone enough for reading and reviewing. You guys are absolutely amazing, and I hope you know how much I value and appreciate each and every one of you. My muses are cooperating for the moment because of you guys, and it’s incredible!
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own Sherlock or make money from this tale. I just get to have fun with the characters!

Sherlock was pacing the living room when Johanna entered the flat, and he gave her a welcoming nod when he spotted her. She nodded her own silent greeting back, frowning a bit when she noticed a suitcase laying on the coffee table.

“That’s her case then?”

“It is,” he answered. “I just returned home with it and upon inspecting the contents of it, found something missing. Take a look and see if you recognize it.”

Johanna took a seat next to the table, going through the contents of the obnoxiously pink suitcase. Lingerie, change of clothing, make up, condoms, and personal grooming items were all present but given the woman’s possible job, there was something rather important missing.

“Her mobile isn’t here; Lestrade’s team didn’t find it at the crime scene, did they?”

“No, they did not,” Sherlock answered, giving her a pleased look before settling on the couch beside her. “Have you got your own mobile on you?”

“I do,” she replied, handing it to him and watching as he typed a message and sent it. “What’s the next step in the case?”

“I’ve sent a message and now we have to wait,” the detective replied, handing her mobile back to her and watching as she read what had been sent.

“The address isn’t where we found Jennifer Wilson,” Johanna commented. “Let me guess, you’re working under the hypothesis that her killer has her mobile.”

“Exactly,” he replied, eyes shining for a moment. “Do you like Italian?”

“I do actually,” the doctor informed him. “Just let me pop upstairs quickly to get something, then we can head out.”

Curls swung over his forehead when Sherlock nodded, watching her as she went up the stairs to her bedroom. He hid a small smile, feeling pleased with the interactions between himself and his new flatmate. It was becoming more and more obvious to him that this would be a partnership that would benefit the Work. Dr. Watson was proving herself to be observant and more intelligent than he had first expected. 

His thoughts were diverted by the appearance of his flatmate, registering that she was adjusting the back of the extremely loose jumper she was wearing and her gait seemed to have eased just a small amount. Whatever she had picked up had boosted her confidence just a bit, and that spiked his curiosity somewhat.

“That didn’t take too long,” he observed in a mild tone, frowning a tad when she laughed.

“No, unlike most women, I don’t take long to ready myself for the day. In this case, I wanted to be certain I was properly equipped in case our suspect decided to make an appearance to the address you texted to him.”

“You’re armed,” he breathed out, eyes widening for a moment. “Brilliant, Johanna.”

“Best be prepared for anything,” she admitted, hiding her embarrassment at his reaction to the fact she was keeping her sidearm with her. “I’d rather have a trap ready for him and also be able to take control of the situation should he have one waiting for us.”

“Excellent,” he beamed for a moment. “That will certainly be useful in the future if we come across adversaries who are also armed. Now, shall we?”

Johanna nodded, adjusting her jacket to ensure the holstered firearm was not visible. She’d clipped the holster to the back of her denims, ensuring that no one could see it accidentally. As she didn’t have any kind of permission to legally carry her sidearm, the last thing she wanted was to draw attention to it.

The physician followed him out of the flat, leaning a bit on her cane as she managed the stairs. He waited for her, then led her out the door. The pair strolled down the street, heading towards the location that Sherlock had requested she text to the murderer.

It was a short walk, even with her limp, and it was nice to take London in at this time of evening. She breathed in the air, enjoying it. The only quarrel she had was that it felt so cold to her; her body had become used to the temperatures of the Afghan deserts, and it was going to take her a while to acclimate to the cooler climate.

“It’s strange not being able to see the stars clearly,” she said softly, not realizing she’d spoken that thought aloud. 

“Light pollution of London does prevent that,” the consulting detective replied. “Did you observe the night sky often in Afghanistan?”

“During patrols or lulls in activity when I had night shift at the hospital tent,” Johanna answered. “It was nice to be able to step away from the events going on and just focus on a peaceful sight for a few minutes.”

“It can be rare to get a night like that here in London,” Sherlock observed. “But the nights when it does happen can be quite enjoyable.”

“I look forward to those nights,” she said. “It’ll be nice to relax and just stargaze if the opportunity presents itself. I used to enjoy it as a child.”

“Was that something you indulged in often?”

“Only on weekends when Dad didn’t have to work,” Johanna answered. “He’d make a thermos of hot chocolate, then he and I would go out into the field that was down the road from the house. We’d sit out and watch the stars; I’d listen to the stories about each constellation. Back then, I used to think he knew the name of every star in the sky.”

Listening to her voice, it was obvious the memories were ones she cherished but Sherlock did not gain much more insight into her past as her voice trailed off. He was rather curious about her history and decided to learn what he could through observation as well as listening to her when and if she shared more about herself.

He said nothing about this as he opened the door to Angelo’s restaurant, greeting one of the workers politely while heading to the table he had requested be saved for him.

“Sherlock, it is so nice to see you!”

Both he and Johanna turned to face the owner of the boisterous voice. The detective gave a tiny smile, greeting the man.

“Angelo, good evening. May I present Dr. Watson? Johanna, this is Angelo.”

The azure eyed woman smiled at the restaurateur, offering him a hand to shake. The solid but gentle handshake she received told her that this man was a working class man, using his hands a great deal, and understood what he could do with his size. The fact that he’d kept the handshake gentle also told her that he respected women, a mark in his favor as far as she was concerned.

“It’s nice to meet you, Angelo,” she greeted, voice soft but firm.

“As it is to meet you, doctor. Please, sit down. Anything you want, on the house. This man, he saved me from a murder charge,” the man said, sounding exuberantly grateful.

“I was able to prove that Angelo was breaking into a house on the other side of the city and was unable to be at the scene of the murder at the time of death,” Sherlock told her, taking a seat.

“He cleared my name,” Angelo told them, beaming. “Now, look at the menu and order anything you like, Sherlock. Same for your date. I’ll go get a candle, make it more romantic for you two.”

The detective was a tad startled at the look on his flatmate’s face when she heard the Italian’s comment about her being his date. She was shocked by his words, and it made him wonder why she would be taken by surprise.

“Why would he think we’re on a date,” the physician asked, watching the proprietor of the Italian eatery walk away. 

“Typically I am here alone,” Sherlock replied. “This is the first time I have come here with any sort of companion, and I would assume that Angelo naturally believed that you are here due to some romantic overture on my part.”

“Strange,” she murmured, shaking her head. The shocked expression on her face faded a tad but was still detectable to his keen eyes.

“What is?”

“That he’d assume I was your date when you could certainly do much better than me,” Johanna replied, confusing the man. “I’m surprised you haven’t brought anyone here before now; it’s a very nice place. I’m certain any romantic partner you have would appreciate it very much.”

“That is something I do not have,” he informed her.

“A romantic partner? Really?”

“My time has been dedicated to the Work,” Sherlock answered. “I’ve no time or patience for any sort of romantic entanglements.”

“I can understand that,” she replied, playing with her water glass. “I imagine that cases require that you keep unusual hours, and it would take a very understanding person to accept that. It surprises me that you’ve not got anyone since you’re highly intelligent and attractive. Most women and men look for that combination in a partner.”

“Even if I had the inclination, I tend to be rather off putting due to my habits and personality,” he told the woman. “However, I am curious as to why you were so surprised when Angelo assumed you were here as my date?”

The former army surgeon was quiet for a moment, forming a reply that would be acceptable to the man sitting across from her.

“I am very much aware that my appearance is not appealing to men,” she answered quietly. “I’m not beautiful nor am I cute, and I have become quite used to being overlooked. The men of my acquaintance view me as a friend and have never viewed me as a potential partner for anything beyond friendship. So it surprised me when Angelo thought I was here as your date because a man of your intellect and appearance could quite easily snare a beautiful lady to be your dining companion for the evening.”

Sherlock stared at her, caught off guard by the answer she’d given him. Judging by the tone she had used, it was obvious to him that someone in her past had enforced such a negative self-image in Johanna’s mind. Given the memory she had shared regarding her father, the detective could only assume that the negativity had come from his flatmate’s mother. 

“Physical appearance means nothing if the mind behind the façade is dull and ill-used,” he said to her, making a mental note to investigate this further when time allowed. 

“Not many would say that, Sherlock,” Johanna said softly, sipping her water. “And most of those who would agree with you would also state that the physical appearance is what draws them in so they can get to know the mind behind the façade. How long do you expect this stakeout to take?”

If he was taken aback by the sudden change in topic, the tall male gave no signs of it. He settled himself comfortably in his seat, watching the street while answering the question.

“One never knows in a situation like this,” he replied. “I have hopes that his curiosity will drive him to this spot fairly quickly, but I never assume it will happen within a short time frame.”

“Well, at least it’s indoors and comfortable,” she mused, sipping more of her water and settling herself to wait. Johanna wasn’t too fond of keeping her back to the window, but she could observe the room in front of her as well as keep an eye on her flatmate. If anything happened, she would be ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – Here’s the chapter! I hope everyone enjoyed this; please let me know what your thoughts are on this. For those on AFF, check out my profile for the yahoo group. I put my alerts for updates and new stories there. Have a great one! ~ Laran


	7. Taking A Step Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – I am so very pleased with the reactions from chapter six. I was worried that everyone wouldn’t like it, but it seems that the readers are rather pleased. I’m amazed by your responses every time! 
> 
> I owe all of you an apology. I have not abandoned any of my works; real life has been chewing on me constantly. At the last doctor visit, I was informed that she’d have to research more medication options as what she’d assigned me previously has not worked and/or I had bad reactions to. At the moment, we’re doing the pain management thing instead of attacking the source of the problem. Add to that, I threw my back out a few days ago when I helped my dad move something heavy. I’ve been trying to heal from that as well as adjust to the pain management drugs I was given.
> 
> I also send a huge thank you to OleanderHoney for her amazing inspiration and for recommending my series to her own readers. If you’ve not read her “Colors” series, GO READ IT! You will not regret it.
> 
> One final note, happy birthday to the amazingly talented Benedict Cumberbatch. It’s funny that he and I share the same birth year and are only a couple of months apart. Anyway, to Benedict Cumberbatch, may this year be full of amazing triumphs, a lot of laughter, and a lot of joy. Thank you for giving so much of yourself to your fans.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own Sherlock nor do I make any money from this story. I just like to play with the characters.

The discussion at Angelo’s had taken a few turns as the flatmates learned more about each other during their stake-out. Johanna had taken a nibble of her breadstick when Sherlock’s lithe form straightened. She noticed his unusual blue-gray-green eyes focusing on something on the street and realized that it was time to get ready.

“Is that it,” she asked, setting down the piece of bread and sliding into her coat. The physician wanted to be ready whenever her flatmate decided to make his move, and there was no way she would be able to handle being outdoors without her jacket. Her body was still used to the heat of Afghanistan, and she found London to be cold!

“I believe so,” he answered. “There’s a cab sitting across the street, just idling. It’s clever, but why is it clever?”

Despite her instincts to turn, Johanna held herself still and waited on her companion. Two people staring wouldn’t be good, and she tamped down on the desire to look to see what it was he watching. She would get to see what it was in a few moments and could be patient.

“Instead of debating on it, let’s find out why it’s clever,” she asked, jumping to her feet as soon as Sherlock hurried to his at her suggestion. She rushed out after him, right on his heels while they dashed out of the restaurant and across the street.

Nimbly, she dodged a car and heard Sherlock growl when the cab pulled off. The license plate was visible, and Johanna was quick to commit it to memory. She reported it to her flatmate, who gestured for her to be quiet before pressing his hands to his head. The former soldier obeyed, not insulted by his almost rude instance for silence.

What followed next was nothing short of impossibly amazing as the doctor listened to him rattle off street names, directions, and alternate routes for both the cab and themselves. In short, it sounded like he had the entire map of London memorized and that was incredible. She’d never heard of anyone being able to do this, not even the scouts during her time in the military, and it only confirmed the massive amount of intelligence the man had.

Within moments, the chase had started again with Sherlock leading them down alleyways and up the sides of buildings, going onto the roof to continue the run. Johanna didn’t even think when the gap between buildings forced them to jump; she just leapt over the chasm and landed smoothly as her stronger ankle took the brunt of the impact of the landing. The right one held steady, never giving her any issue at all as she kept pace with the taller male.

Both were breathing hard when they caught the cab, opening the door to the backseat. Johanna frowned a bit at her flatmate’s reaction, eyeing both the driver and passenger. The passenger seemed taken aback while the driver didn’t even glance back at them. She filed that away, focusing on the consulting detective’s words as he spoke to the occupant of the cab’s backseat.

He led her away from the vehicle, running for a moment before ducking down an alleyway. Both leaned against the wall of a building, catching their breath. Johanna turned to look at her flatmate, eyes wide with amazement, curiosity, and mirth.

“Where did you get that ID?” 

“I picked Lestrade’s pocket,” the male said, showing it to her. “I do it every time he annoys me. You can keep this one if you like; I’ve got more back at the flat.”

The doctor shook her head, then started giggling as the humor of the situation overtook her. It’d been a long time since she’d laughed, and she was quick to explain when she caught Sherlock’s expression. The last thing she wanted was for her flatmate to think she was laughing at him.

“Sorry, it’s just ‘welcome to London?’”

The uniquely colored eyes squinted a bit as he found the humor in what she’d commented on, and he laughed too. It felt nice to have someone to laugh with, and Johanna giggled again.

“That was, without a doubt, the craziest thing I have ever done.”

“And you invaded Afghanistan,” he replied, still chuckling when she shook her head again.

“Not by myself,” she retorted, giggling harder. “I had a few other crazy blokes with me.”

“Got your breath back?”

“I do,” Johanna said, grinning as she answered him. She could see his eyes smiling in harmony with the small smile he was giving her, and she knew that had to be a real one because his face seemed to glow with it. The laugh lines around his eyes were also a point in proving the validity of his amusement, and the physician had a feeling he didn’t do that very often so it made her happy to know she’d made him laugh.

“Right then, come on,” he said before running out of the alleyway. The small woman matched his pace as they hurried back to their flat. 

Once more, they went through unusual routes, relying on Sherlock’s uncanny memory of London. Yet again, the blond haired woman was amazed by this and knew she would continue to be every time this ability was shown. 

The pair slowed down once they were a few blocks from their flat, and Sherlock shook his head. He’d been reviewing everything, and it just didn’t make much sense to him honestly. 

“What’s the matter,” Johanna asked, catching the gesture he’d made. She could tell something was bothering him, and she genuinely wanted to help.

“The case,” he replied. “It should’ve been him in that cab, not the tourist. This person has all of London at his fingertips and seems to know the out of the way places to take the victims. Who would have this kind of knowledge? Who hunts in the middle of London?”

“It’d have to be someone who would need such an intimate knowledge of the entire city,” she answered, hands in her pockets. “I can only think it’d be necessary for work or a hobby of some kind.”

Sherlock didn’t reply, nodding absently as he pondered the problem. He added her words to the mix, trying to determine the proper course of action. 

They walked in silence for a few minutes before Johanna realized they were at their building. She frowned, watching Sherlock unlock the door, and stepped through the open portal.

“Shouldn’t we return to the restaurant?”

“They’ll keep watch for me, and let me know if anything turns up,” he told her, leaning against the wall for a moment.

“Why are we lingering here instead of heading up to the flat?”

“Proving a point,” he answered with a smile. There was a knock on the door, and she opened it to find Angelo standing there.

“Sherlock texted me, said you’d forgotten this,” the Italian told her, handing her the cane she’d been so reliant on.

“Oh,” Johanna murmured, taking the item. “Thank you, I hadn’t realized I’d forgotten it.”

“Not a problem, miss. Have a good night,” he said with a smile, hurrying off.

The blond haired woman stood there for a moment, staring at the cane before turning to look at her flatmate. He was smirking, watching her closely.

“I didn’t even recognize I hadn’t had it with me,” she said, awe in her voice. “I didn’t limp, still not limping.”

Sherlock’s smirk turned into a grin. He was very pleased that she’d overcome the psychosomatic part of her limp. The detective knew there would be days where the limp would come back due to the nature of the injury, but at least she could be cane free during the good days.

“Thank you, Sherlock,” she said softly. “You really have improved things for me so thank you for not giving up and pushing me to go beyond where I thought I had to stay.”

“All that was needed was the right motivation,” he said. “You’ll have bad days with the weather on occasion.”

“But I’m limp and cane free otherwise,” she grinned, then frowned as a worried looking Mrs. Hudson approached them.

“Sherlock, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean, Mrs. Hudson? Johanna and I just returned home,” he answered, frowning at their landlady.

“There are people upstairs, searching your flat,” she answered, watching as her two tenants dashed up the stairwell to their home.

Johanna entered the flat to find Lestrade and a group of other policemen searching their flat, making a rather large mess of it. Both the medical and military parts of her mind protested the disaster they were making, and her dislike of the situation showed in her voice when she addressed the officers.

“What do you think you’re doing,” she asked, setting her cane down and watching the group very carefully. The former captain was very much aware of the holstered gun resting at the small of her back and was grateful she’d had the foresight to bring it with her instead of leaving it in the flat to be found.

“Oh hello, doctor. You two took your time getting back,” Lestrade greeted. “This is a drugs bust.”

“I assume you suspect one of us hiding drugs here,” she retorted, voice very cold. Johanna didn’t appreciate the insinuation, and it showed in her tone.

“We did find pain medication,” a snide female voice replied. “So there could be other kinds of drugs here.”

“Those are prescribed medications, written for me by the doctors I am currently seeing,” the irate woman told Donovan. “I do not abuse them, and they are not in the high level ones that are addictive. That’s a trap I’ll not fall under again.”

“Why have them at all? Could be you’re supplying the freak,” the police sergeant sniped back.

“You are out of line, Sergeant Donovan,” Johanna retorted, voice falling into military crispness. “I was shot twice in the line of duty and invalided out because of it. Detective Inspector, I trust you have probable cause as I know you are not in the narcotics division and neither is the group with you. If you do not have probable cause or a warrant, I will report you to your superiors.”

“Your flatmate has a history of drug abuse,” Lestrade rebutted, sounding shaken by the woman’s authority. This was the first time he’d seen anyone stand up for Sherlock that wasn’t Mycroft or himself, and the DI was rather impressed by her.

“For God’s sake, Lestrade, I’m clean,” Sherlock interjected, growing frustrated with the goings on. “I don’t even smoke anymore. Look.”

Johanna turned, spotting the arms he revealed when he rolled up his sleeves. She looked up into his face, and their gazes locked for a few moments as she studied him.

Sherlock was frozen in place, spotting what looked like understanding and compassion, and he was not given a chance to act on it due to her breaking the silence. As she spoke, he filed the expression away in his mind palace to be looked over later.

“If he says he’s clean, then he’s clean. I’ll thank you to get to the true point of this visit or that call will be made,” she warned the DI. “My patience is growing thin.”

“He found the victim’s case,” Lestrade told her. “We’ve talked about this before, Sherlock. You can’t go off on your own and then hide evidence. If you’re going to consult, you have to work with us.”

“Fine,” the consulting detective said, sounding petulant. He threw himself into a chair, staring at Lestrade. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – I hope everyone enjoys this installment! We’re getting to the really good parts now, and I can’t wait! Please let me know what you think, and thank you for reading this chapter. I mentioned the narcotics division and if I goofed there, I apologize. I tried to research NSY and didn’t find much in regards to there being an actual narcotics unit. Also, in the US, you have to have probably cause for line of sight searches or a warrant for more in depth ones. I wasn’t in my normal chat group last night so I didn’t get to ask any of my UK chat buddies for details regarding police search procedures. If I messed up, I am very sorry and please let me know how it works so I know to ensure that I get it right for future chapters and stories. For update alerts if you’re reading this on a site that doesn’t have alerts, please look up my yahoo group. The link is on my profile. See everyone soon. ~Laran


	8. Entering the Battlefield

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – Wow, you guys really are incredible and I am so very flattered by the reactions all of you had to this tale of mine. The responses to the last update were very encouraging, and it seems everyone loves Johanna. Her handling of Donovan has brought up a lot of positive comments, and I’m pleased that I’m on the right track with this story. 
> 
> I do apologize for the time that it’s taken to get the update done. Between issues regarding my grandfather as well as familial issues in my own life, I haven’t had had or motivation to write much. My father, deciding that he had no tolerance for my health issues, decided to throw me out of the house. I’ve been working with a lawyer regarding SSI since I can’t work, but it seems it wasn’t good enough for my dad. Fortunately, my mom had room for me and is willing to give me sanctuary until I win the SSI battle and am able to find a place of my own. Needless to say, the holiday has been a freaking nightmare and the new year has not had a good start at all. 
> 
> Just a heads up, the dialogue is similar to the original but changed to conform to my ideas regarding the plot. It’s just another sign of the AU warning in play.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “Sherlock” nor do I make money from this tale. I am simply enjoying the chance to play with the characters.

“We were able to track down who Rachel is,” Lestrade began as the discussion about the case was opened. “It was the name of the victim’s stillborn daughter; this happened fourteen years ago.”

Sherlock started pacing, unaware of Johanna and the others watching him as he worked through the facts. There were a few things he didn’t understand due to his own theories regarding the woman in pink. Given her relationship issues as well as the career she had been involved in, showing that type of sentimentality did not make sense to the detective.

“If that’s the case, then why would she spend her dying moments scratching that name on the floor? It’s been a long while so it wouldn’t be something she’d try to pass on. Johanna told us earlier that the death would have been incredibly painful so she wouldn’t have wasted her time writing something that wouldn’t be of use to us. She wouldn’t have been sentimental since she wanted us to find her murderer.”

The short haired woman tilted her head, thinking as Sherlock brainstormed. Her flatmate had a point regarding the victim’s use of time. A thought occurred to her, and she voiced it in hopes that the tall male might be able to use it.

“Sherlock, what if it had to do with the missing mobile? It’s obvious she planted it on him for that very same reason. It’s something I would do in order to get justice.”

The consulting detective blinked as the facts came together, and he headed to his laptop. There was a look of focused intent on his face.

“Johanna, read the website information off of the tag on the case,” he instructed, opening the device while she scrambled to where the pink suitcase was laying.

The physician held the tag between her fingers, reading off the information to him. She could hear his fingers moving rapidly over the keyboard and looked up when Anderson opened his mouth.

“So we can read her email; how is that supposed to help us?”

“Do be quiet, Anderson, or you’ll lower the IQ of the whole street,” Sherlock snapped as he worked with the website. “Most mobiles now have GPS and in case of theft or being misplaced, there is a way to track them. Considering her lifestyle, that mobile was essential to her and she would not have disabled the GPS tracking on it.”

“Which means I was right, she had to have placed it on the killer so we could track him,” Johanna commented. “Brilliant. Where’s the mobile now, Sherlock?”

“Baker Street,” the curly haired man answered, voice soft. He sounded as confused by that answer as she felt when she heard his answer.

“Great, fat lot of good that’s done us. It’s probably buried here under the mess,” Lestrade commented but was cut off by the curt tones of the small doctor.

“Not likely,” the blond woman bit out, infuriated that the flat was now messy and that the police had done this. “This flat was organized and neat before you brought in your squad of trained monkeys to do an illegal drugs bust. That mobile was not here earlier and unless one of your ham handed thugs brought it in, it’s not here now. We happen to know that because we texted the mobile earlier, and there was no text alert or anything. Given she’d been traveling, she would have had the volume up for the alerts so as not to miss it.”

“I don’t have it,” Sherlock said, placing his hands together as if he was praying and pressed the tips of his fingers below his chin as he worked through the problem.

“Yes well, you’re not ham handed or a thug,” she pointed out to her flatmate, giving the team a glare that would have had her former unit quivering in fear.

“So what now,” Lestrade asked as Johanna eyed the laptop for a moment. He wasn’t pleased with the doctor’s comments but couldn’t argue as he’d handled the situation poorly. Apparently, the consulting detective’s flatmate was someone that would not be a push-over, and the DI approved of her.

“Is the doorbell not working? Sherlock, did either you or Johanna order a taxi? There’s one here,” a new voice interjected, distracting Johanna away from the conversation going on behind her.

“No one ordered a taxi,” the physician said, a tad confused as to why her landlady would announce that a cab had arrived when one hadn’t been ordered.

Realization dawned on her just as Sherlock vacated the flat. The only reason the mobile would be pinging here was because the driver had the device on him. She moved to the window, mentally cursing when she spotted her idiotic flatmate get into the car.

“Great, he just drove off,” she told Lestrade, voice cool as she relied on the shield of icy reserve that the doctor had used since her injury in Afghanistan. The doctor wasn’t comfortable with these strangers in her flat, and she knew she had to move carefully so she could see to Sherlock’s safety.

“Now why did he do that,” Lestrade groused, dismissing his team. “I hate it when he goes off on his own like this.”

“He’s done it before,” Johanna asked, fighting down the urge to rush them out. She didn’t trust these idiots and didn’t know the DI well enough to put her flatmate’s safety in his hands. As she spoke, she set the computer to search for the mobile again.

“Too many times,” the detective inspector admitted, shrugging into his coat. “God help me, I need him though so I can’t fuss too much about it and just hope that he doesn’t put his damned foolish neck at risk.”

“Seems a bit foolish to just let him run as he wishes and not do something to keep him safe,” the former military woman pointed out. 

“As I said, I need him,” Lestrade told her. “I know he is a great man and hope someday, he’ll become a good one. Right now, he needs someone to watch his back where I can’t.”

Johanna was quiet, watching him leave before scooping her jacket up and donning it. The computer beeped, telling her that the mobile’s current position had been located, and she was immediately out the door to flag down a taxi of her own.

Fortunately for her, the cabbie was rather patient and followed her directions as she monitored the computer. Once she was close to where the mobile’s signal had stopped, Johanna rang the Metropolitan Police Department and had a message sent to Lestrade in regards to where Sherlock was. This would give her enough time to bail her flatmate out of whatever situation he’d gotten himself into.

The twin buildings of Roland Kerr Further Education College seemed to mock her after she left the taxi, tucking the small laptop into a pocket. The doctor could hear the cab speed away, which she ignored as she tried to determine which building Sherlock was in.

“I’m going to wring his bloody neck after this is through,” she muttered, choosing a building and running into it. “This is beyond stupid.”

Worry twisted its way through her chest, making her heart pound and giving her difficulty in breathing as she made her way through the empty building. Each locked door and empty classroom only heightened the emotion, giving it life as it burrowed through every organ she possessed. 

Worry transformed itself to irritation and fury when the former military doctor entered a classroom, spotting her flatmate in the building directly across. He was listening to someone, staring intently at something he held in his fingers. Johanna had a gut feeling she knew what that item was, and she was going to kill him after this was over.

“Damn it, Sherlock,” she muttered. “Don’t you do it! Don’t you take that poison, you idiot!”

As the object in his hand drew closer to his mouth, Johanna’s own hand went for the holster clipped to the back of her belt. She drew it smoothly, thumbing the safety off as she settled into a pose that was extremely natural to her. Johanna’s focus was centered on the cabbie, and she drew in a deep breath before taking aim.

Her senses were overtaken by the loud report of the gun as it fired in her hand, the breaking of two windows as the bullet tore its way to its target, and the scent of gunpowder that filled the air. Johanna took a brief second to ensure her target was down before she hurried out of the room, knowing she would need to hide until the situation had calmed down enough for her to emerge.

The cool evening air of London filled her lungs while she disappeared into the shadows. Johanna waited in silence, knowing the police would arrive soon. She’d come out of hiding then and wait for Sherlock to finish with the officers. It would take the right timing to ensure that no one suspected she’d been the one to pull the trigger to save her idiot flatmate’s life.

The doctor sighed, folding her arms across her chest as she waited. The last thing she had expected was to be put in a position where her personal sidearm would be used again. As a physician, she had taken an oath to save lives. It was an oath that often contradicted with the vow she had taken when she had gone into the military. In her mind, the only way life was allowed to be taken was in defense of her fellow soldiers and her own life. 

Somehow, Sherlock had been placed in her mind as a fellow brother in arms and that put him in the category of someone she would protect at all costs. It felt good in a way, knowing that she had someone like that, but Johanna wasn’t sure it was a position he’d accept. For all she knew, he could turn her in if he realized who it was that had pulled the trigger. Also too was the thought that he may not want her there to protect him as he worked his cases.

It was nice feeling useful again; it chased away the cold grayness that had enveloped her after her wounding overseas. The feeling was something she wanted to hang onto and hoped that the detective would be willing to allow her to help him on his investigations. Johanna knew that her ability to fight, shoot, and be an in house doctor wasn’t all that she could bring to the table, and she really wanted to prove to him that she could continue to be useful.

Sirens pulled her out of her thoughts, and she watched as the police began cordoning off the area. When Sherlock exited the building and was escorted to the ambulance, the doctor emerged and was quickly filled in on what had happened by Donovan. So far, everyone was confused by who the gunman had been and Johanna was pleased.

The doctor waited, watching as Sherlock spoke to Lestrade, slowly becoming more animated. Johanna had a feeling that he was given the detective inspector clues regarding who the gunman could be, and it was obvious when he realized who it was.

The eyes of the genius locked with hers, and the blond doctor waited to see if her overtures as a fellow fighter in the battleground of London would be accepted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – Another chapter done! I can’t believe we’re nearing the end of this story. I’ve got ideas for the next one after this. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and thank you again for being so patient with me. Please let me know what you thought of the installment. See you next chapter! ~ Laran


	9. Forging the Partnership

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – Well, here’s the final chapter for this story. I feel so happy with how it’s going, and I can’t wait to continue working on the series. Thank you all for reading, and I hope you guys will continue to follow along in the future adventures of Johanna and Sherlock. Thank you for your kind comments.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “Sherlock” nor do I make money from this story. I simply am writing this because it’s fun, and I enjoy playing with the characters.

“That was a very good shot,” the deep voice rumbled as the owner of the voice stood in front of the small woman. 

“So I heard,” Johanna answered, not taking credit for the work she had done. “I was just speaking to Sergeant Donovan about what happened. The cabbie was forcing people to choose between two pills? It sounds like something out of a film honestly.” 

The consulting detective nodded, and she continued speaking. The blue eyed woman still had more to get off of her chest, and she was glad he’d stayed quiet so she could speak her mind.

“Truth be told, considering you were on the case, I wouldn’t be surprised if both pills contained the poison. Were you really going to take that pill?”

“No, I was just stalling for time,” Sherlock answered his flatmate, watching her closely. “I knew you’d turn up.”

“No, you didn’t,” she scoffed, eyeing him sternly. “You were going to take that bloody pill to try to prove you’re a genius. Know what you did prove?”

“What’s that,” he asked, curious what her answer would be. The man was rather fascinated by the woman, and it felt odd to be spoken to like this.

“That you’re a right idiot,” Johanna informed him, frowning when he smiled at her answer. She hadn’t meant to be funny and could only hope her words got through to him. “What would have happened had that gunman not turned up?”

Sherlock didn’t answer her question, getting distracted when a car pulled up and two figures emerged from it. He gave a low groan before striding towards the vehicle. Johanna followed, eyes narrowing in suppressed irritation when she recognized the man standing beside the car.

“Another case cracked,” Mycroft Holmes began, smirking a bit. “How very public spirited of you, little brother.”

“Do you not have anything better to do than to put your nose where it doesn’t belong,” the younger brother asked his sibling. “You have no reason to be here at all.”

“Someone has to keep an eye on you,” Mycroft answered. “Good evening, Dr. Watson.”

“It was until you arrived,” the physician answered coldly. “How did you enjoy your stay at the Metropolitan Police Station?”

Sherlock didn’t bother hiding his glee when his brother’s jaw tightened at the reminder of the fiasco he’d created by breaking into the flat and catching Johanna off guard. 

“I do apologize for how I handled things, Dr. Watson.”

The blond watched him for a moment before shaking her head. For some reason, she had a feeling the man would do it again and until he learned, she was not going to accept the apology.

“You’ll have to work for forgiveness,” Johanna said to him. “Pretty words are not enough to make up for what you did. You violated my privacy, and I am not willing to allow that to happen again. I imagine you’ll be dealing with the fall out after my therapist and physical therapist go after the one who broke into their records. They weren’t too pleased after I notified them of the problem.”

“It’s being handled,” Mycroft replied in a tight voice. Before he could say another word, Sherlock intervened. The detective was in a good mood and didn’t want it ruined by his idiot brother.

“Johanna, are you hungry?”

“Starving,” the blond told her flatmate. “I didn’t get to eat much at Angelo’s, and my stomach has been reminding me of that for the last few hours.”

Sherlock gently nudged her away from his brother, speaking while he did so.

“I know of a good Chinese place on Baker Street that stays open until two. They have good dim sum,” the detective offered as she fell in step with him.

“Sounds like a very good idea to me,” Johanna replied, falling into silence until they were well away from the crime scene. She listened to her flatmate describe what Jeff Hope, the cabbie, had told him. He was riding the high of a solved case, and the physician did not want to bring him down from that.

The topic continued for quite some time, going on through the first part of their meal, and Sherlock leaned back as he sipped his wine. He watched the doctor for a long moment before changing the subject slightly.

“Are you all right?”

She looked up, a bit startled by the question. Johanna hadn’t been expecting the change of topic, and she was caught off guard by it.

“Beg pardon?”

“You had to do something tonight that would upset anyone,” the detective reminded her. He knew that the death of Hope would provide another problem for her PTSD, and he was concerned about her.

The blond nodded, setting her chopsticks down. She drew in a slow breath, carefully forming the answer to his question.

“I’m well aware that there are two aspects of my personality that are in direct conflict with each other, and I have had to learn how to handle it over the years. As a doctor, my priority is saving lives. As a soldier, my priority is to protect my brothers and sisters in arms. By taking up arms, I am saving lives by ensuring they are not hurt. It’s the only way I can keep both oaths in balance with each other.”

“You saw me as a brother in arms tonight, didn’t you,” Sherlock asked, sounding astonished by that possibility.

“I did,” Johanna answered honestly. “You involved me in this case and made me feel like I was a part of something important again. I haven’t felt that way since the day I was shot. Protecting you tonight was just another way to contribute to the case. It really felt amazing being part of the team.”

He watched her for a few moments, and she could tell that he was searching for any lies in her words or expressions. Johanna waited, keeping quiet as he finally broke his silence.

“Today was the first time I’ve had someone alongside me that didn’t frustrate me or hinder the investigation. Would you be interesting in working with me again, becoming my partner and solving future cases together?”

She looked taken aback by the question, and Sherlock rushed to explain. This was very important to him, and he didn’t want this to go wrong.

“You don’t degrade me; you are genuinely interested in the investigation and the methods I use. Your medical knowledge is extremely useful as well as your combat training with the military. The most important asset though is your own intelligence and how you conduct light.”

“Conduct light?”

“Yes,” the detective informed her. “Your comments, ideas, and questions shine a light on the investigation and help me find the answers to the puzzles set in front of us. The knowledge and experiences you have are valuable to me, but your ability to conduct light makes you invaluable. You truly have no idea just how much help you were today on this case.”

Johanna blushed, looking down at her plate for a few moments to give herself time to collect her thoughts. She had hoped he might be willing to allow her to help on his cases, but it was humbling to hear why he wanted her to assist him 

“If I agree, Sherlock, you have to ensure you don’t leave me behind again. I can’t be there to protect you or even provide medical assistance if I’m scrambling to keep up. You did that twice today and if I hadn’t realized what was going on when you left the flat, I might have been too late to save you.”

“I can’t make any promises,” the curly haired man replied. “I’ve not worked with a partner before and am used to doing things on my own. I will make an effort to try and not leave you behind. Will that do?”

“That’ll do,” Johanna told him, smiling when Sherlock held his wine glass up.

“To a new partnership,” the detective said in a quiet toast. 

“To a new partnership,” she responded, sipping her water at the same time he took a sip of his wine. The doctor broke into soft giggles when her flatmate made a rather silly comment.

“Did you know I can predict the fortune cookies?”

“No, you can’t,” Johanna said, laughing. It felt good to laugh and even better to know she now had a place and purpose again. 

This partnership was going to be a very interesting one, and Dr. Johanna Watson simply could not wait to see where this new path was going to take them next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – This is a bit shorter, but it didn’t need much to help end this story. Keep an eye out for the next installment of this series. If you’re not subscribed to me, you’ll want to do so. Please let me know what you thought of this story. See everyone next time and thank you for reading. ~ Laran

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s End Note - I hope everyone enjoyed this. I’ve planned for quite a few stories in this universe so hopefully things will go well. Please let me know what you think of it, and I shall see you next chapter! Laran


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